


On the Downlow

by afearfulbride



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pre-Canon, Undercover Missions, background mcgenji sort of, joel morricone: origins, mcyatta, valveplug, zenyatta is young and thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afearfulbride/pseuds/afearfulbride
Summary: Amongst fears that the newly formed Shambali might represent a new form Omnic supremacism, Jesse McCree is tasked with infiltrating their order for information. Posing as a journalist, his investigation fails to turn up any leads, but that doesn't stop him from taking a less than professional interest in one of the more unconventional monks he meets.





	On the Downlow

**Author's Note:**

> A GIFT. FOR YOU.

“Subtlety,” said Jesse, “is my middle name.”

Commander Reyes eyeballed the man over his desk- his stetson, his spurs, the cigarillo hanging conspicuously from the corner of his mouth that imposed upon him a perpetual and ostentatious slur- and pinched his brow.

“... I’m sending Shimada.”

Jesse reeled as if he’d been shot, then suddenly lurched forward and slammed both palms down onto the table. “Hear me out, chief,” he urged. “The Shambali are expecting a journalist, right? Now, they’re pretty eccentric sorts-”

“Pretty crooked sorts,” Reyes muttered.

“- but they gotta be charming, too. I ain’t trying to brag here, but can you seriously picture Genji trying to sweet-talk a bunch of omnics? Even if they bought it- which they _wouldn’t_ \- they’d never let their guard down around him.”

The real trouble, of course, was that Jesse was right. Even if Genji were in any shape to play along, Reyes knew deep down that he couldn’t just let him loose in an omnic monastery, not when the guy could barely look at himself in the mirror without tensing up. No. Like it or not, McCree was his best shot at infiltrating the Shambali without causing an international incident.

He sighed, deeply, and batted Jesse’s hands off of a thin layer of unfinished paperwork. “Just don’t cause a scene. All we need is intel- so long as the brass are satisfied they’re not harbouring some omnic supremacist cell, they could be worth endorsing.”

It seemed an unlikely outcome- Reyes doubted the UN were ready to put their money where their mouth was just yet- but it was an important one to keep in mind. Already the Shambali had managed to amass quite the following, mostly omnic but increasingly human, too. Sooner or later they’d have to pay attention.

Jesse straightened up. For a moment he looked almost professional in that roguish way of his, focused and determined. “Don’t you worry, chief. This is gonna stay strictly on the downlow.”

 

*

 

If the Shambali really were more than they seemed, they were damn good at hiding it. As far as welcomes went for skeezy reporters, Jesse’s- or rather, _Joel’s_ \- had been bewilderingly warm. Mondatta had greeted him with open arms and answered every question thrown at him both gracefully and willingly, even inviting him on tours of what had to be every inch of the monastery. If the omnic thought there was anything suspicious about the overly-interested American who’d turned up on his temple steps he was keeping it to himself, and his followers seemed content to- well. Follow.

Most of them, anyway. There was one in every flock, and it wasn’t too difficult to spot which one of these electric sheep would turn out to be black. Not a day went by without Jesse overhearing some snatch of conversation or another, _Have you seen Brother Zenyatta?_. Or: _Not even Master Mondatta could rouse him._ Or, once: _A jackal, I heard! In his kasaya!_

A slender reed of an omnic with a squared grid of nine lights on his faceplate, much like Mondatta’s, Zenyatta had a way of making an impression. For the most part he seemed almost to drift from place to place like an untethered kite, but when they were introduced he’d looked Jesse in the eyes so candidly he could almost have sworn he’d seen right through him already.

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Morricone!” he’d said, placing both hands over his in a way that not even Mondatta had attempted. The feeling of them had lingered for hours afterwards. “I hear you have been quite the cat amongst the pigeons.”

In that lilting cadence it had sounded like a compliment, and Jesse flashed a wink. “Comes with the territory. Reckon I’m more of a fox, though.”

“A fox!” The lights of the monk’s jieba had danced. “I cannot say I disagree, Mr. Morricone.”

And even though he should have known better, even though he’d all but heard Commander Reyes in his ear, reminding him to think with his head and not his dick, he’d grinned in a broad, easy sort of way, leaned in, and said, “Please. Call me Joel.”

*

Zenyatta never did take him up on that offer. But from that moment on they’d made for a tight little odd couple; seemed every day they found an excuse for some guided tour or “interview”, even as it became increasingly clear to Jesse that the omnic had as little to hide as the Shambali proper, no matter how deeply he dug when their backs were turned. Nights spent slipping around the monastery, cracking whatever hidden terminals he can break his way into and dropping self-erasing spyware into their systems, turned into lazy mornings as his hard work stubbornly refused to pay off.

“This really what you had in mind when you came here, Zen?” he asked once, on the temple steps; cold seeped through the pillar at his back. Already they were friendly enough for that, for nicknames. “Isolation?”

The brilliant clarity of the dawn cast golden light across the omnic’s face plate. “Perhaps not,” he allowed, before his voice brightened and curled teasingly in on itself. “Is it what _you_ expected, Mr. Morricone? Or were you hoping to meet extremists? Uncover some terrible clandestine truth to share with your readership?”

If he’d had a shred of shame left to dredge up Jesse might have blushed; as it was, he simply laughed good-naturedly and clapped a hand to Zenyatta’s shoulder. “You don’t hold back, do you? You gotta admit,” he said, “it’d be one hell of a scoop.”

“Ah, yes. A ‘scoop’.” The omnic turned a little, scooted closer on the steps. The nine glowing lights on his faceplate softened the ironic drawl to his voice. “That is what you came here for. Have you found it yet?”

Jesse thought about giving a friendly answer, then immediately changed his mind and leaned in all the closer instead. “Oh, I may have a few leads. Guess you could say I have a _personal_ contact on the inside.”

He still half-expected the omnic to pull away, making it all the more rewarding when he let their foreheads touched, just for the briefest of moments.

“I see.” Zenyatta’s synth fluttered at the edges, its mock-gravity a flimsy disguise for his amusement. “You must trust his word.”

True, it had never come up in his training over the years, but Reyes hadn’t explicitly _forbidden_ him from a little honey-trapping. Jesse’s voice dropped to a deep, hoarse murmur against his faceplate. “You know I do.”

And, yeah, maybe this wasn’t what Gabe’d had in mind when he’d sent him out here. Maybe he’d figured Jesse would switch on some chaster version of Southern charm to get his results. But god _damn_ if it wasn’t worth it just to feel the flush of warmth to Zenyatta’s chassis, steaming subtly at the vents even as he drew back with what he’d come to recognise as uncharacteristic shyness. 

*

Oh, yes. If he’d hooked himself a fish he wasn’t too sure he wanted to throw it back just yet. Still, the fact remained that he’d been out here for two weeks and had nothing to show for it- as Reyes took to reminding im with increasing regularity during their encrypted updates. Either the Shambali’s security was a hell of a lot tighter than anyone had been expecting from a second-hand temple in the mountains, or they really didn’t have anything to hide.

So tonight would be it: the last stand, the final throw of the dice, all-in and calling the Shambali’s bluff, _’cause I reckon you don’t have the guts, hombre._ On all his other nocturnal visits Jesse had have made Genji proud (unlikely) with the care he’d taken, light on his feet in spite of his bulk and hyper-aware between the eerie chime of the temple bells that marked his every undiscovered hour. By the time he slipped out of his accommodation for the last time he practically had the place memorised. Even by the eerie luminescence of the temple lights where they slid between pillars and windows he knew where to find the most discreet of terminals and the subtlest of passages. He knew where to find Mondatta’s chambers- and, if he could just find the right place to jack in, he knew how to plant a worm that would burrow so deep into the monk’s records he’d have to pray for salvation. Not exactly ethical, and not the way he liked to work, but it’d get the job done.

Most of the monks’ cells were situated in a single wing of the monastery, however Mondatta, presumably needing more space to entertain and plan and teach, occupied a far larger footprint on the other side of the compound. As a consequence it was isolated from the rest of the Shambali, which made it all the more convenient for creeping around in the middle of the night when no man had any reason to be there.

Like him, for example.

Really, as he worked a seemingly seamless panel loose from the wall, chewing his cigarillo as if it were the most normal thing in the world to be doing at one AM, Jesse almost felt bad for these guys. For how badly prepared they were for a _real_ threat. Least he could do after all this was over was get Reyes to send them a few security pointers. Even a tech newbie like him could figure out how to crack these syst-

“I had a feeling I would find you here, Mr. Morricone.”

Self-restraint left Jesse nearly swallowing his cigar. It was preferable to the alternative, which would have put a hole in the omnic’s pretty head before he could even have recognised it. As he drew his hand back from the holster hidden at his belt he shook his head, turning swiftly into the new blue glow lightly the hallway: Zenyatta, floating serenely just a few inches from the ground.

No footsteps. That son of a _bitch_.

“Jesus, Zenyatta,” he sighed, shaking his head, “don’t sneak up on me like that! Coulda given me a heart attack!”

Zenyatta did not laugh. He simply touched his feet to the flagstones, one after the other, and approached him in a strange, unrelenting sort of way that left Jesse wondering if he shouldn’t be backing up in turn.

“... Zen?”

The omnic watched him. His face, then his hand, still raised to the panel but lowering further and further by the second, as if he could really conceal the chip he’d been two seconds away from using to fry Mondatta’s security.

“Please do not call me that,” he said, and Jesse’s heart sank deep into his boots. “You make a mockery of my affection. I had hoped that you would be satisfied with exploring-” _fuck, shit, how long had he known?_ “- but I cannot let you violate Mondatta’s privacy.”

Was it too late to turn on the charm? At the very least, Jesse supposed, an easy smile and a tip of the hat might earn him a little time to think. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I just wanted to take a look around, check out his travel plans. Nothing sinister, I promise.”

Zenyatta walked on, unrelenting, and the wall beside him rippled with light in response to his presence. It cast a surreal and almost subterranean glow across his faceplate. Each scuff and scratch seemed raised in relief, each rip and smudge highlighted.

\- wait. Smudges?

“But...” Jesse paused, wondered if he was pushing his luck, then decided that there was only one way to find out. “... but I guess you’d know all about sneaking around where you don’t belong, wouldn’t you?”

 _That_ stopped him. Zenyatta’s jieba blinked.

“I _live_ here-”

“Right, right. ‘Course,” McCree continued, in the same mild-mannered drawl, “that’s mud on the hem of that fancy robe of yours, and grass stains, too, by my reckoning. So either you’ve been cleaning with your own clothes or you ain’t even been in the temple at all today.”

There was a silence. Then, from the glowing darkness of the corridor, came a strange, metallic slapping sound. With sudden and almost comical clarity Jesse realised that he was being applauded.

“Bravo, Mr. Morricone!” Zenyatta’s voice curled in almost feline amusement. “Excellent deductions! I would expect no less from a seasoned journalist… or perhaps that should be, seasoned _liar_?”

Funny, how one little word could make Jesse McCree- Deadlock gangbanger, Blackwatch agent, sharpshooter- turn damn near grey.

He recovered with a quick, wounded “Hey, now-” but it was already too late. Zenyatta was shaking his head.

“Please do not argue with me. I have been researching your name all day.”

“Research? Wait a second, I thought this place didn’t have an internet connection?” Jesse objected, brow furrowed. “Something about getting rid of distractions?”

“We are not granted _access_ to the internet,” Zenyatta corrected, “but where there is a will, there is a way. Why do you think I left the monastery? I did not want my activities to be tracked.”

“Smart,” he said, unwillingly. Suddenly he knew exactly where this was going, and it was not going to be pretty.

“But we are getting off topic.” Zenyatta paused delicately, touching one finger to his cheek with a soft clink. At least he had a flair for the dramatic. “When I searched your name, I found articles under your name and a biography, but little else. Moreover, upon cross-referencing your resume I found no record of a student by your name as ever having attended the University of Florida. Why is that, Mr. Morricone?”

 _Bang._ Bullseye.

McCree thought about bullshitting him all over again. He thought about feigning innocence. Then the reality of the situation sank in and he knew that the only way to make things, if not better, then less _terrible_ , was to take it like a man.

He threw his hands up in surrender.

“Alright. What’s your gameplan here, Zen? You blackmailing me, or do I have to catch the next bus to Kathmandu before you chase me out with those orbs of yours?”

“Your real name and purpose here would be a start. And…” This time the interruption was natural; Jesse felt as much as he heard the omnic gather himself for his request. “And I would be honoured,” Zenyatta concluded, “if you were to seduce me.”

Jesse nodded warily. Then his brain caught up with his body and he choked. “You can’t be serious.”

For the briefest of moments Zenyatta seemed to falter, one hand breaking to touch his elbow, faceplate angling away. “There are some things,” he said slowly, “that one cannot learn in a temple. There is a world out there I cannot touch, and this is a lonely mountain.” To Jesse’s surprise he laughed, quietly, and just a little wryly. “You were right after all, Mr…”

“McCree. Jesse McCree.” There it was. Jesse drew in a breath, and smiled with an ease that caught him unawares. “And you got yourself a deal.”

“Provided you are not a spy, of course,” Zenyatta added quickly, in a way that suggested that particular proviso had almost slipped his mind. Which was flattering, in a way.

“I’m not a _spy_ , I’m a…” He kicked a few options around in his head before settling on, “an agent. Listen, all I’m interested in is keeping the peace. Lot of unrest, these days, though I’m pretty sure you don’t need me to tell you that. So long as you fellas check out, I’ll check out, too.”

Zenyatta did not move.

“... well?” Jesse folded his arms. In spite of himself he sounded just a little defensive. “Got a problem with that?”

“I believe you.”

“That’s just too bad, starshine, ‘cause it’s the tru-” Jesse’s mouth remained open around the silence. And just when he thought Zenyatta was finally was out of surprises, too. “Wait, what?”

“I believe you.” Effortlessly graceful, Zenyatta insinuated himself between the wall and Jesse’s body, all but wedging himself under his arm. His gaze turned upwards, glowing warm approbation. “You are many things, Jesse McCree, a liar included, but… but I do not believe that you are a bad person. Besides,” he added mischievously, “do you think I would give myself to a saboteur?”

Talk about humbling. Jesse shook his head in fond disbelief, then chucked the omnic under the chin with one knuckle. “Guess not. Still. I’d never judge you,” he added carefully, though the glimmer in his eyes betrayed him instantly, “but you sound kinda thirsty.” 

An odd thrumming sound answered him almost right away, and belatedly he realised that it was the omnic’s fans flustering their way into overtime. Adorable. 

“Very funny,” Zenyatta answered, audibly embarrassed but edging closer all the same, “but, all the same, I cannot deny your insight." 

“That's why they sent me. Insight. You’re just full of surprises, ain’t you Zen?” A pause. “I _can_ call you that, right?”

The omnic positively beamed. “Few things would make me gladder… but I can think of one.”

*

There was just something about the eager clamp of the omnic’s hand about his wrist and the way he kept glancing at him, as if he might disappear… the thick wooden door to Zenyatta’s cosy little cell closed at the omnic’s back, and it struck Jesse that it was almost _adolescent_. 

Which made it all the more entertaining to strip off for him, item by item, relishing the shy glances the omnic stole whenever he unveiled a new area of skin: arms, waist, his stomach, with the pull of his t-shirt, then at last his cock, only half-hard and already thicker than Zenyatta’s wrist, on which Zenyatta’s gaze lingered for what had to be far longer than was proper for any man of the cloth.

Jesse basked in it for a moment or two, then, as soon as embarrassment threatened to avert Zenyatta’s attention, dropped one hand to his dick and squeezed from base to crown. The sensation was instantaneous, and deliciously, unexpectedly intense. _Fuck_. How long had it been, anyway? Wasn’t like he’d been jerking off here too often.

“And I ain’t even got warmed up for you yet,” he crooned. “C’mon, beautiful. Let me take a gander at you.”

Turned out under all that fabric he had quite the silhouette going for him. That tiny waist had caught his eye from the very beginning, but Jesse’s imagination hadn’t stretched to what might have been around it, much less a set of broad hips and legs up to the tastefully modest lighting. As Zenyatta kicked the kasaya from around his feet he couldn’t resist a little wolf-whistling, much to the monk’s amusement- albeit amusement that only too swiftly became embarrassment as his hand faltered at his hips, and the modesty plating between them. A deep, encouraging kiss to his jaw, cigarillo in one hand, forceful enough to edge them both onto the bed in a tangle of thighs, finally took him over the edge. There was a soft hiss, and Jesse edged back to admire their handiwork.

Monk or not, the omnic was in possession of a plump, pretty little pussy that just begged to be played with, lips pouted ever so slightly about the glowing node of its clit. What he _didn’t_ expect to slide out of that hatch just above it was a sleek cock that just kept on coming, even when he was sure he’d seen all of it. Plenty good enough to fill out any orifice he had to offer Zenyatta, and he hadn’t even planned on being filled in the first place.

So much for feeling a little dry. Suddenly it seemed as though all the saliva in his mouth had returned with a vengeance. Jesse managed a low, swooping whistle without drooling. 

When he popped the cigarillo back between his teeth his grin was only a few fangs short of _wolfish_. 

“Now, what’s a sweet little thing like you doing packing a monster like this down here, huh?”

Zenyatta laughed, and yet again his coquetry fell away to bashfulness. Cute as a goddamn button, this one, albeit a kinky one. “I can no more explain the blueprints of my body than you can your genetic code.”

“Point. Not that I’m complaining,” Jesse added. “Gives me a little more to play with.”

“No more talking, please,” the omnic said sweetly. Then, with the kind of pure, limpid serenity bred only from years of self-discipline on some god-forsaken mountain-top in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Zenyatta leaned forward, took the cigarillo from between his lips and stubbed it out on the sleek metal expanse of his inner thigh.

Only once he’d extricated his tongue from his throat did Jesse finally croak out an answer: “Sure thing, sweetness.”

And here he was thinking he’d have to get creative just to get the omnic off. Suddenly he’d been presented with a veritable buffet of options, with no indication as to where he should begin.

Best not to overthink it. A wink was all the warning he allowed Zenyatta before he seized the slender joints of his ankles and _yanked_ until the monk’s thighs fell open and his hips all but came to rest in his lap. Small wonder Zenyatta could only chirp in response, jieba flaring white, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets just as broad, rough fingers probed curiously at the exposed wiring at the apex of his thighs. Jesse’d been given cause to doubt the omnic’s strength, but suddenly he seemed intoxicatingly dainty and doll-like. It was only too easy to lift his hips to his face, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his pussy against his mouth in the moments before he buried his face in it.

Soft, plump lips parted about his tongue, already gleaming with lubricant that guided his attention to all the right places: the glowing node at the peak, flickering with increasingly frantic lights whenever his kisses found it, the tight little hole that just begged to be breached, first with his tongue and then with the calloused girth of his fingers. Feeling Zenyatta shift around each intrusion like wet silk. So _accomodating_. As the omnic writhed and gasped, all stuttering chirps and clicks, it occurred to Jesse that he could probably have slammed his dick in dry, no prep needed, and the thought had him moaning like a dog in heat.

When he finally drew back, panting, a thread of lubricant and saliva connecting their lips, he couldn’t help but grin. With his ass bucked up in the air and his spine curved gracefully back onto the bed, Zenyatta made for one hell of a sight. Lubricant drooled messily down his hips from his pussy, open and twitching with what Jesse had to assume was more input than he’d ever had to deal with down there.

“Alright,” he cooed, “I think that’s enough.” With clumsy care he manhandled the omnic back onto the bedroll, patting his thigh as if it might distract from the way his other hand was still fondling absently between Zenyatta’s legs. He glanced up, lip quirking into a lopsided smirk. “Think you’re ready to take things up a notch?”

Zenyatta stared at him. His array quivered like a candle in a breeze. “Jesse McCree,” he breathed, “if you do not take me now, I will never forgive you.”

After a little experimentation Zenyatta seated himself astride his lap, hands strung loosely over his shoulders so he could curl his fingers in Jesse’s hair, tease the smooth, sensitive place where the finest of it grew at the base of his skull. A messy trail of slick marked the awkward shift of his hips before his cunt found Jesse’s cockhead again, butting blindly up against his cunt once, twice- and finding its mark in a pulsating slide that had his head spinning with its sudden new depth. 

The omnic gasped and shuddered forward into his embrace with clinging hands.

“J-Jesse!”

“Easy, now, sugar, easy,” he crooned, stroking each segment of his spine in clumsy strokes. His lips mouthed absently at the bolts of Zenyatta’s jaw, the pistons of his throat as they expanded. “I got you. Yeah, you like that, don’t you?”

Whatever answer Zenyatta might have had to offer up was lost to a confused chorus of gasps and chirrups and clicks as he raised the omnic by the hips, little by little, enjoying the drag as synthetic cunt released his cock. Zenyatta was a slight thing but his arms still burned with the effort- though the omnic had ways of making things worthwhile. The garbled plea against his ear as the thick crown of his cock threatened to pop out, the stretch of it. Jesse fucked up into that plush fist of pleasure and even _he_ couldn’t contain his moans.

Like most of the best things in life it simply could not last. But it was so worth it for those few hungry thrusts it took to pry the remnants of restraint from Zenyatta- the sudden, fluttering clutch about his enjoy body as the omnic overloaded with a glitching cry, clinging to him as if he were they were the only two left in the world- the spring-loaded release in Jesse’s own gut as his body flooded with pleasure and that perfect little cunt milked thick spurts of jizz from him until it spilled into his lap between them.

All things considered it was no wonder they lost a little time between each other’s bodies then, gasping and sweating and, in Zenyatta’s case at least, vibrating like a hummingbird in flight as his processors finally caught a break. As they sank down onto the bedroll and Jesse slid out his cunt fluttered, fruitlessly trying to keep him nice and tight inside where he belonged; fortunately, the omnic’s fingers were far more effective. 

Within moments they were tangled together all over again, with just enough room for Jesse to cover as much of the monk’s body as he could in long, sloppy kisses and caresses. Sometimes these moments were more worthwhile than the sex itself, curling lazily about Zenyatta, feeling his hands denting his waist and cupping his muscles, his soft, defeated voice against his neck in sighs and pants. _Mmm._ If he could just move his arm, he decided, he could angle his fingers just right between the omnic’s legs and get a good feel for the mess they’d made of his pussy, maybe even coax another orgasm out of him before he got hard again.

He twisted his wrist, experimenting- and right on cue the comm device attached to his belt buckle on the floor twittered with an incoming call.

Jesse groaned. “Aw, hell,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the hand now dragging its way down his forehead. “Mind if I take this, honey?”

Zenyatta sighed, shifted, and gently disentangled himself. Sat back up against the wall he looked good enough to eat all over again, but somehow, in an impressive display of self-control, Jesse managed to wait for his nod and scramble for the device instead.

“Eagle-Eyes, reporting.” Goddamn. Did he really have to sound like that, all fucked-out and throaty? He cleared his throat and rolled to the end of the bed, trying to clear his head. “What’s up, Nightowl?”

What greeted him had him sitting bolt upright in a millisecond.

“What are you doing, McCree?” a husky, accented voice snapped, and even with the imperfect reception fuzzing the edges of the call Jesse knew it instantly.

“Genji!” He gave a short, sharp laugh of disbelief. “The hell are you doing on the line? I thought only Reyes was on the access list.”

“I had to know why you were taking so long,” Genji answered, without mercy, “to deliver so little.”

Jesse palmed his forehead, feeling, even in the afterglow, the beginning of a headache punching its way into his skull. Why did he have to be like this?

“Relax. I’m working on it.” He paused, glancing back. “Matter of fact, I was just in the middle of squeezing a new contact of mine.” Try though he did to keep his tone neutral Jesse couldn’t entirely steer it away from a leer. _Squeeze._ Really. The joke wrote itself. “He’s a smart guy. Real cooperative.”

Without missing a beat, Genji scoffed. “You’re fucking it, aren’t you?” 

It was less a question than it was a demand. Bitter, too. Was he jealous? Briefly Jesse entertained the idea of reminding him that _he_ hadn’t been the one to insist they weren’t even friends, just benefits, but it didn’t do to get Genji mad. He could sit on his grudges for months at a time; the day or two it’d take for an extraction would be a fart in a bubble-bath so far as that guy was concerned.

Besides, why spoil the moment with an argument? Far better to relax and watch Zenyatta stretch languidly on the sheets, head cocked in obvious amusement. Funny, how quickly he’d learned to interpret all those little gestures of his.

“I’m doing my job, Genji,” Jesse answered benignly, once he tore his eyes away. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ll be back before you even realise you miss me.”

And of course Genji sputtered like a pan of hot fat, but when he finally spoke he sounded more irritated than he did truly annoyed. “You are a disgrace.”

“Love you too, darling,” he answered, radiating his shit-eating grin into every part of his intonation. “Eagle-Eyes, out.”

“... Hayabusa, out.”

Zenyatta was at his back almost the moment he terminated the connection, arms wound around his waist and fingers combing through the thick spray of hair across his chest. “A colleague, I take it?”

“Yeah.” A pause- then the conversation rewound in his head with dawning realisation, and he found himself hastily adding, “don’t get the wrong idea, Zen! We ain’t-”

“I know.” The embrace squeezed a little tighter for a moment, the omnic’s faceplate blessedly cool in the damp space between Jesse’s shoulder-blades. “... thank you. You were-”

“Incredible?” Jesse offered, twisting around. His lips found Zenyatta’s forehead, where he placed a couple of scattershot kisses between suggestions. “Spectacular?”

“Very generous,” he finished. Affection radiated from his jieba in their moon-soft glow. “I did not expect that.”

“What can I say? I’m a real gentleman.”

“I can see that.” Zenyatta shuddered into his back. “By the Iris, I can _feel_ that. But you do realise that we are far from finished, don’t you? I do not mean to overwork you, Jesse, but you have left certain… areas… of my anatomy quite uninitiated.”

On cue something thick and warm and twitching pressed into the base of his spine, as if in some wild fit of post-coital ignorance he might have forgotten about the hardware between Zenyatta’s legs. Emphasis on the _hard_. Shit, maybe ‘thirsty’ had been an understatement. The guy was Mojave levels of dry.

“Hey, now,” Jesse answered, rubbing his beard into the sleek metal of Zenyatta’s jaw, “don’t think I’m done with you yet, honey. Gimme a five and a smoke, and we’ll get right back down to business.”

Absently, as he allowed himself to be pulled, laughing, back onto the bedroll, he let his thoughts drift back to Blackwatch HQ inhabited by an imaginary Commander, whose face had been planted firmly and somewhat melodramatically in his hands. Maybe not every detail of the mission needed to make it back to Reyes. Some things, Jesse concluded, were better left unsaid.


End file.
